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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29995608">See You As You Are</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wholocked96/pseuds/Wholocked96'>Wholocked96</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A personal headcanon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Falcon, But otherwise this is Black Panther compliant, ChadwickForever, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks to Violence, Fluff and Angst, Graphic flash backs, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I don't write smut well, I hope I write flashbacks accurately, I love her, Living in Wakanda, M/M, Mentions of the Raft, Nakia (Black Panther)-Non compliant, Post-Black Panther (2018), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Wilson Needs a Hug, T'Challa can sing, T'chalcon, They're All A Little Messed Up, but she messed with my pairing, but we love him, kind of, my second OTP, so no smut, steve rogers is a little dumb, t'challa needs a hug, what even is their ship name?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:07:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29995608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wholocked96/pseuds/Wholocked96</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Wilson comes off the Raft with a few more nightmares. T'Challa struggles with his new calling as King, while he deals with the death of his Father. They both see past the facades of the other. </p><p>I needed more T'Challa/Sam Wilson in my life so I wrote this. I followed Canon as far as possible, except for Nakia, she doesn't exist, sorry/not sorry. </p><p>Optional Title "Exceeding Expectations."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers-Background, T'Challa/Sam Wilson (Marvel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope I wrote the flashback in this chapter well, I edited it so many times. It might have come out a little more like my own anxiety attacks, so if you have any hints on how to edit it more hit me up in the comments.</p><p>For those who are wondering I do actually have a song in mind for what T'Challa is singing. I just found it on youtube, but here are some links for you. It's called "Uélé Moliba Makasi".</p><p>https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3DCvS3JQ7qGcc&amp;sa=D&amp;source=editors&amp;ust=1615537320801000&amp;usg=AOvVaw1jxw9Xk7RKn7t17sIaVKBX</p><p>https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.mamalisa.com/?t%3Des%26p%3D2891&amp;sa=D&amp;source=editors&amp;ust=1615539876088000&amp;usg=AOvVaw22CwXoJ0obGn60t0SiMCQ_</p><p>Feel free to listen to it as you read, it's a very nice lullaby sounding song.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Technically the first time Sam saw the Black Panther, King of Wakanda, he was in the air, about to kick a helicopter out of the sky, so that Steve’s war buddy/boyfriend/whatever they were wouldn’t get shot. Because of that he really didn’t get a good look at the guy. Until a while later, after a couple of terrifying moments where said Black Panther, King of Wakanda, nearly pulled him into oncoming traffic, and narrowly avoided killing said war buddy/boyfriend/whatever. But when Sam finally got a chance to actually look at the King of Wakanda. Damn was it worth it. </p><p> </p><p>The cat suit did nothing to hide the gorgeous body underneath, and maybe it was just Sam’s obsession with powerful men who could definitely kill him, but even as an enemy Sam couldn’t help the hitch in his breath. The guy was gorgeous, all lean muscle and smooth lines. He also had a powerful presence, confident, determined, and very royal. It was intense. </p><p> </p><p>Which naturally led Sam to be the ass that he is and needle the guy for fighting in a cat suit, even if it is vibranium like Steve correctly assumes. He wasn’t really surprised that the king didn’t reply to him, he’s just a guy after all, not a superhuman, or a witch, or a billionaire genius, he’s just Sam from the VA, so why would a king care? But still, Sam can’t stand to not be a sarcastic ass when it’s called for. </p><p> </p><p>Then things went downhill faster than his mom’s failed Christmas dinner that one year when his sister decided to bring a girl home instead of a guy and everything was tense and awkward for a while because his mom had no idea how to react to that. Thankfully she’d learned. Unfortunately this situation was not one that could be fixed or learned from. </p><p> </p><p>The next time Sam came into contact with the king he was trying to get Steve and Bucky off the ground at the airport, so he didn’t have much time to admire the guy’s form, and after that Rhodes was being life flighted to the closest hospital, and Sam couldn’t get the image of Riley falling out of the sky out from behind his eyelids. He didn’t give a shit about the king at that moment, didn’t even register that the guy was still around. He struggled so hard with not having an episode that he barely registered being loaded into a transport truck with his wings confiscated and his hands bound. </p><p> </p><p>He should have known that wasn’t the end of it. If there was anything to say about Steve Rogers it was his ability to charm the hell out of people and get exactly what he needed in order to help Barnes. </p><p> </p><p>Sam wasn’t expecting the high level, supermax prison in the middle of the ocean. He was expecting the daily beatings, the government still trying to track where Steve had gone. He expected the broken ribs, and the black eyes, and the barely tolerable food. He wasn’t expecting the shock collar and straight jacket they gave Wanda. He wasn’t expecting everyone to be kept in the same room. He was expecting the rescue, he knew Steve would never leave the team there indefinitely. He was expecting it to happen a lot sooner than three weeks into imprisonment, but oh well. He wasn’t expecting the high tech Wakandan jet that Steve herded everyone onto. He wasn’t expecting to receive refuge in the country that had a king who, three weeks previously, had been hell bent on revenge and absolutely nothing else. He especially didn’t expect the personal welcome by said king, the instant they touched down in the Wakadan capital. He wasn’t expecting the very thorough once over by the king, who clearly didn’t miss the bruises, and the fact that Sam couldn’t really stand up straight without wincing. He wasn’t expecting the tense tone of Wakanda that apparently meant “get this guy to the hospital as fast as possible.” He wasn’t expecting the high tech hospital, or the fact that healing apparently took less time because of such high tech. </p><p> </p><p>With all of the unexpected that had happened to him, looking back he probably should have expected that the entire team would be given an entire wing of the high tech palace/castle type building to hang out in. It included a room with an attached bathroom for each of them, a living room for gathering, and a very large kitchen, along with a central alarm system that rivaled Stark Tower. They were informed they could use the palace training room if they wanted to work out, and that they were welcome to the palace gardens as well. They were not welcome to leave the building unless given permission and accompanied by one of the scary looking women with spears. </p><p> </p><p>Even with all of that, not even including everything they were doing to help Barnes, Sam still didn’t expect his next meeting with the king to be in private, on the balcony of his new room at nearly midnight. He should just start expecting anything at this point, his life was so damn weird now. </p><p> </p><p>So the fifth time he saw the king, and the first time he was actually able to have a conversation with him was three days into their stay. He couldn’t sleep, no surprise there, so had moved to the balcony off of his room, because his life was surreal enough that he had a balcony on his room, because why not. He was leaning on the balcony railing completely alone one second, stuck in his head after another nightmare about Rhodes and Riley falling out of the sky, trying not to hyperventilate, staring out over the lights of Bernin Zana. </p><p> </p><p>The next second his fight or flight response kicked in and he nearly threw himself off the balcony railing as he registered footsteps behind him. Three weeks in a supermax prison will screw with your desire to fight everything that comes at you, sue him. </p><p> </p><p>“I did not mean to startle you, I apologize, Mr Wilson.”</p><p> </p><p> It took another few moments for him to get his breathing under control, and he finally turned toward the doorway. </p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit, man, how did you even get out here? You scared the shit out of me!”</p><p> </p><p>The king offered a repentant smile before taking another step closer. “I am sorry, Captain Rogers informed me that you were out here, and I took the liberty of coming through the room to find you. I should not have assumed that you would hear my approach, I apologize.”</p><p> </p><p>With one hand to his chest to try to calm his now frantic heart, he waved the king closer with the other. “It’s fine, I probably should have heard you. Just got stuck in my head. I think we’re all jumpier right now anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>The king nodded as he stepped cautiously forward. “That is not a surprise, I expected no less. That is why I sought you out, as a matter of fact. I have spoken with the others on your team about how they are adjusting. I desired to see if there was anything else you needed, and I also hoped to see how you were faring here.”<br/><br/></p><p>Sam leaned up against the railing, facing away from the city now, hoping to look more relaxed than he felt. By the cautious sweep of the king's eyes up and down him, he wasn’t sure he succeeded. </p><p> </p><p>“No, um, I’m good, I’m… adjusting, I guess.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “It’s a little weird, but definitely beats a cell in the middle of the atlantic.”</p><p> </p><p>There was the flash of a wince across the king’s face. “Yes, I would hope so. I am sorry that we were not able to give the Captain the resources to rescue you earlier. I hope that you have been recovering smoothly. The doctors informed me that your injuries were extensive, but healing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah, they were pretty bad… But don’t worry, Steve told us you had your own issues there for a bit, so really, I’m just glad we got out at all. Fast track healing was just kind of a bonus, I’m real glad that’s a thing here.”</p><p> </p><p>A flash of a smirk was all he got, but he was still trying to get the ghosts out of his vision, he couldn’t exactly be top notch funny all the time. In an effort to completely clear his nightmares away he took a few seconds to really look at the king. He was gorgeous, in long robes, mostly black with embroidery around the edges. His hands carried a few rings, which only emphasized how large and strong they looked. But his eyes carried the distinct impression of someone who hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in a while. It was a look Sam had gotten used to with the Avengers and his VA contacts, but hadn’t expected the king to carry. </p><p> </p><p>He cursed himself mentally. Of course the king would have trouble sleeping. He’d only been king for three weeks at this point, after losing his dad pretty traumatically. Poor guy was pretty young, probably hadn’t expected to become king for years still. </p><p> </p><p>Sam cleared his throat, bringing the king's eyes back to him, away from the lights of the city. “How have you been faring? Steve told us things got rough for a bit, but that was after everything that happened with your dad. That’s a lot to adjust to, if you don’t mind me saying.”</p><p> </p><p> The king nodded in acknowledgement, a brief smile around his eyes. “Yes, it is. But my people are resilient, it is an honor to serve them and step into my father’s shoes.”</p><p> </p><p>A flash of not quite anger flew through Sam. That was the same kind of response he would get from Steve, back when Steve tried to be much more Captain America than Steve Rogers. What was with all the superheroes not understanding that they were allowed to be human? The guy had just lost his dad and what he was worried about was his people. It was a nice sentiment, but the psychologist in him wanted to roll his eyes and shake his head. </p><p> </p><p>Instead of doing that, he simply looked at the king until it got a little uncomfortable. He was kind of hoping for more to go off of, but he was also hoping that the king would be able to hear how ridiculous that sounded. </p><p> </p><p>After several seconds the king put his hands behind his back, clearing his throat. Not much had changed about his posture at all, but he had an air of discomfort now. Sam took pity on him. </p><p> </p><p>“Seriously, man? Like, I get that your people are important, of course they are, but you gotta look out for you too.” </p><p> </p><p>When that was met with raised eyebrows and confusion Sam sighed and tried again. “I wasn’t asking about the king, I guess. Steve used to do this thing, people saw only Captain America, so he would reply as Captain America, all nobility and patriotism, war wisdom. But he’d forget to take care of Steve Rogers. That’s exactly what you just did, but with the king thing. Everyone here is expecting you to be king, right? Along with everybody on my team. When they ask you a question it’s something to do with being king, am I wrong?” </p><p> </p><p>It looked like the king was going to interject with excuses, so Sam kept going. “I get that’s important. But… Man, you just lost your dad, you had to step into a position I’m sure you weren’t expecting so soon. So, no, I wasn’t asking about the king. I was asking about the son, and the brother who just had to go through one of the most traumatic experiences of his life. How is that guy doin?”</p><p> </p><p>That made the king pause again. He took a deep breath, wetting his lips with his tongue-a movement that Sam definitely did not follow with his eyes- before stepping up beside Sam. He put both hands on the railing, staring out across the city again. Sam turned a little so he could keep eye contact if the king wanted it. </p><p> </p><p>It was several more moments before he spoke, and he kept his eyes on the building in front of him. “You are the first person to ask that of me. I have had to be king to every person here, even my mother and sister, so they could find strength in themselves. I… I am not sure how to answer your question.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded. “You might want to figure it out. After…” He took a quick breath, thought ‘fuck it’ and kept going. “I was seventeen when my dad died, it was rough for a while. But there wasn’t anyone there to remind me to focus on my healing and it made it worse. Made it worse for Steve too, Bucky, hell even Tony crashed and burned. You gotta take a minute for you every now and again.” </p><p>That got him a side eye and a sardonic smile. “There is hardly time for that, Mr Wilson.”</p><p> </p><p>This time Sam did roll his eyes. “First, get rid of all the Mr crap, it’s Sam. I feel like helping break us out of a prison and letting us sleep in your house gives you the right to a first name basis, your majesty. And I also happen to know what deflection sounds like. In order to be the best king you can for your people, you gotta be healing, just like they are.”</p><p> </p><p>The corner of his mouth twitched up. If Sam could get this guy to really smile, he would bet Avengers compound on it being the most brilliant, beautiful thing. </p><p> </p><p>“If I am to call you Sam, I insist that you stop with the royalty titles.” Sam chuckled a little, yeah, he’d kind of gone overboard when they first got here, just to be annoying. It was a testament to his current state of mind that he hadn’t thought to use them during this conversation. “Please, call me T’Challa, especially if you are going to continue to ask personal questions like that.”</p><p> </p><p>He winced a little at that. “I’m sorry, I… I used to work with vets, and I’ve been friends with Steve Rogers. It’s hard to turn off sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa turned toward him slightly, finally making eye contact again. Sam was suddenly hit with the height difference. It was only a couple of inches, but when the taller man was so powerful it was kind of intimidating. </p><p> </p><p>“I would not ask you to turn it off. It shows how mindful you are of those around you. And I am sure it has helped many people.” The king straightened completely and turned away from the edge. “I must be going now, but if there is anything you need please do not hesitate to ask. And…” A slightly hesitation where he seemed to be thinking hard. “I will consider what you asked, and hopefully next time we speak I will have an answer for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded, holding out a hand on impulse. “Of course, I’ll look forward to it.”</p><p> </p><p>The king took his hand, then brought up his other to wrap both hands around Sam’s. It seemed both intimate and casual, made no less so because of the eye contact that accompanied it. “I will as well… Sam.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam couldn’t help his smile at that. “Have a good night, T’Challa.”</p><p> </p><p>The king nodded and swept away. </p><p> </p><p>He kind of got lost in thought for a while before worry wart Rogers found him. After reassuring Steve that he really was okay, and that the king had just wanted a status report, he went back to bed. Before he fell asleep again he determined that he would never require T’Challa to ever be the king around him. It would take some getting used to, Sam would never have imagined being on a first name basis with a king, but it felt good to do some good again. T’Challa deserved to have someone he could breathe with. Even if it wasn’t Sam, and he found someone else who would help, he deserved that. </p><p> </p><p>----------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>It turned out that the next time Sam saw the king, T’Challa, it was at a team dinner celebrating the end of their first week in Wakanda. Wanda had made a stew from Sokovia or as close as she could get with Wakandan ingredients, Clint had made biscuits, and Scott had whipped up a salad with the Wakandan greens they were all getting used to. They had just sat down when a knock on the door stopped them. It was a testament to how traumatized they all were that Wanda’s hands started glowing, and Clint instantly went into battle mode. </p><p> </p><p>Steve took a deep breath before moving to answer the door. Everyone let out a collective breath of relief when the king’s, T’Challa’s, voice flowed through the room. </p><p> </p><p>Steve instantly invited him in. “We were just sitting down to eat, but you’re welcome to join us if you have the time.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa nodded at all of them. “I appreciate the invitation, I wanted to check in with you all and see how you were doing.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam could have been crazy, but he thought T’Challa’s eyes might have lingered on him momentarily. </p><p> </p><p>Steve answered for them. “We’re all settling down. Please, take a seat, I’ll grab another place setting.”</p><p> </p><p>They all settled back into their seats, and T’Challa took the empty one directly across from Sam. “I am sorry that I have not had the time to check in with you more regularly, but I am glad to see you all looking better than when you arrived here.”</p><p> </p><p>They all nodded in agreement and Sam took up the conversation. “It’s not hard to get used to a vacation, especially when it comes right after incarceration.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa definitely smirked a little. “I would hope that your stay here would be a far cry better than incarceration, Mr Wilson.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam chuckled, he couldn’t tell if it was teasing, or flirting, or something else, but it was nice. “Better the middle of the african wilderness than the middle of the Atlantic ocean, your majesty.”</p><p> </p><p>“And how is the adjustment going, Sam? Getting better sleep, I hope?”<br/><br/></p><p>Sam’s stomach settled a little at the use of his first name, glad to see that the king was actually taking their previous conversation seriously. “Yes, starting to for sure. And you?” He hoped he made it obvious with the direct eye contact that he wasn’t inquiring after the king, but after T’Challa. </p><p> </p><p>T’Challa didn’t break eye contact as he nodded once. “I am very well, thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded and T’Challa moved on to ask after each member of the team. Steve came back with dishes for the king and they all dug in. </p><p> </p><p>The conversation flowed pleasantly for the most part. A tense moment cropped up when Stark and Rhodes were brought up briefly, but it passed when Scott inserted his weird humor and deflated the tension. </p><p> </p><p>Sam couldn’t help feeling horrible about it. Something he had brought up with Steve multiple times. No one had heard how Rhodes was doing, Nat had yet to get in contact, if she was going to get in contact, so Sam only had the information that Stark had given him on the Raft. But Rhodes hadn’t been conscious when they’d left the airport, and Sam had uncomfortably direct knowledge of what a fall from that height could do to a person. He couldn’t have reached Rhodes, Steve had told him that, he knew that. Stark hadn’t even reached him in time, and he had more thruster power than Sam had. Still Sam couldn’t keep the guilt away, and it was just one more nightmare to add to the growing pile of them. The cracked ribs and bruises from Stark’s blast had already healed, but Sam’s fingers brushed his ribs anyway. He couldn’t help feeling that he definitely deserved that blast, no matter what Steve said to the contrary. </p><p> </p><p>A foot tapped his under the table, drawing him out of his thoughts. He glanced quickly at Steve, but he was talking to Clint. Another tap and his focus landed on T’Challa who was watching him closely. </p><p> </p><p>His eyebrows went up in an obvious question, but Sam simply shook his head, trying to shake away the demons as well. He nodded at the food in front of them. “What do you think? Not bad for a bunch of fugitives, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa chuckled after a moment, apparently accepting the redirection. “It is not usual fare for me, but it is very good.”<br/><br/></p><p>That got Wanda involved in the conversation as she explained how she’d made it. Sam was grateful for the chance to slip out of direct conversation again. It was getting hard to focus, a sure sign that his night was going to be long and full of ghosts, but for now he worked hard on staying present. </p><p> </p><p>The conversation eventually moved away from the table, and everyone settled into the living room. Sam found himself again sitting across from T’Challa, next to Steve on the couch. He settled as deep as he could into the corner. He let himself zone out a little more as he listened to the chatting around him. The deep timbre of Steve’s voice next to him, with Scott’s loud ranting, mixed in with T’Challa’s soothing accent it was easy to do. Not so easy to keep the ghosts away, so he was gradually overwhelmed with thoughts and feelings. Watching Riley fall out of the sky turned into Rhodes dropping and Tony’s anger, interspersed with memories of the Raft. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t realize he was shaking until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away and then calmed as he realized it was Steve, with his concerned eyebrows. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay, Sam?” His voice was quiet enough that it didn’t draw attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Yea-” He cleared his throat quickly to keep it from shaking as well. “Yeah, I’m good.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sure? What’s wrong?” </p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw T’Challa lean forward, looking concerned himself. “Um, nothing, I’m… I’m just… I’m okay.” He closed his eyes. He tried to keep shame away when this happened, but it was hard. He hated these episodes, but he had been expecting one eventually, after everything that happened he couldn’t keep his nightmares away during daylight hours. </p><p> </p><p>He cleared his throat again and straightened. “I’m just gonna… gonna go, I’ll be back.” </p><p> </p><p>He tried not to run to his room. Hoping the humid air would help he quickly pushed open the balcony doors and nearly collapsed against the ivy covered wall. He put his head in his hands and practiced his breathing. With every breath another nightmare surfaced. Explosions from fighting on the helicarriers. The sound of the cell door squeaking open on the raft. He felt himself physically flinch away from the sound of the RPG forcing Riley out of the sky next to him, a sound he would never forget. And further back the sound of his mother’s cries when they got the news that his dad had been killed. The windshield exploding as Bucky ripped away the steering wheel of his car. Guns firing all around him as a young man bled out under his hands. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You think I’m gonna let you have all the fun, man?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t tell if he was hyperventilating or forgetting to breathe. His chest hurt, but it always did in the middle of a fight anyway. The pull of the wings against his spine, the force of the kickback from the gun in his hands. It was all part of being a soldier, being a hero, but that wasn’t even what he was. He couldn’t even protect his own teammates from gravity. The defeated look in Wanda’s eyes as she was forced into a shock collar. Clint’s anger, Steve’s despair as another lead went cold. His mother’s broken voice as she explained that they wouldn’t make rent again. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I can’t tell you, I don’t know-” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Charlie lock- Fire now-” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>"I'm grounded-"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It replayed in his head, over and over. Different details resurfacing. The dull thud of Rhodes hitting the ground. The soft sound of his sister crying from another room. The sharp patter of machine gun fire on the ground around him. The roar of a building collapsing behind him. Dust in his eyes and in his hair for days after.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Everyone we know is trying to kill us.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "Riley!" </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The gentle rhythm of a song he didn’t recognize, completely unfamiliar, but pleasant. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Not everyone.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The image of Steve Rogers bleeding out on a river bank. His dad’s body being put into the ground while his mother sobbed. Transporting Riley’s broken body back to the States. Watching Wanda collapse under Vision’s attack. Gunfire forcing him away from a dying soldier. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’ve got something big, but I can’t hold it very long.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The gentle timbre of an african tune, slowly growing louder. </p><p> </p><p>Hard concrete against his back as the breath was knocked out of him. An explosion that knocked him over and broke open the supply container he was carrying. White sterile bandages scattered across mud, were they covered in blood too? Blood covering his hands as he helped Riley pick up another wounded soldier. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “When do we start?" </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A simple african melody. </p><p> </p><p>Sam took the first deep breath in what felt like a while. It was nearly a gasp. There was soft cotton against his neck, from the simple shirts they wore in Wakanda. A hard wall covered in plants against his back. Moisture on his hands where they’d been pressed against his eyes. He forced another deep breath into his lungs. The sounds were quieting, everything real coming back into focus. </p><p> </p><p>The african song was still there,  no faster or slower, simply there. Soothingly rhythmic without being overbearing. </p><p> </p><p>Sam lifted his head, still gasping for breath. The lights from the city beyond the balcony were brought into sharp focus, but quickly faded into the background, their significance overshadowed by their king, who was reclining, relaxed on the ground against the balcony railing. Sam felt his breath catch for a new reason, even as shame flooded his entire body. </p><p> </p><p>T’Challa didn’t even seem to notice. He kept his head back, staring unseeing toward the sky, singing quietly with a wonderful tenor. His fingers were slowly twisting the ring on his right hand. He seemed to get to the end of the song and started over. </p><p> </p><p>Sam kept watching him, not moving from his hunched position, trying to bring his breathing back to normal. Focusing on the unfamiliar syllables helped pull his mind back from the horrors he’d experienced. His aching muscles slowly relaxed, and his mind calmed. </p><p> </p><p>Finally he felt like he could actually stomach a conversation. He groaned unintentionally as he straightened into a more relaxed position. How long had this episode lasted? His body felt stiff, as if it had been hours. </p><p> </p><p>His movement brought T’Challa’s head down. They held gentle eye contact as the song finished. Sam didn’t want to break the silence that followed. After several moments T’Challa did. </p><p> </p><p>“That song is not Wakandan, but my father used it to teach me the rhythm of fighting styles. It was used long ago as a way to keep the rhythm of rowing along rivers. It is pleasant, no?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded, finally looking away from the king. “Yeah, it’s nice.” </p><p> </p><p>They fell into silence, but eventually Sam looked up again. “I’m sorry, it’s been a while since I had one that bad… How long have I been out here?”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa shook his head carefully against the railing. “You do not have to apologize, Sam. Captain Rogers told me you might not welcome company, but here in Wakanda we do not allow our warriors to suffer alone. I followed you out here a few minutes after you left, that was about twenty minutes ago.” </p><p> </p><p>Sam closed his eyes against the wave of emotion. “Shit, that was one was really bad.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you don’t mind the question, what brought it on? So I can help avoid the topic in the future?” </p><p> </p><p>Sam shook his head and rested it against the wall behind him. “Everything did. I try to be mindful of my mental health, but I haven’t been as good about it after meeting Steve. There’s a lot of shit I haven’t processed properly yet. Didn’t really have the time.” </p><p> </p><p>T’Challa hummed in acknowledgment. “Many warriors in Wakanda suffer under the same affliction. We have resources I can introduce you to, that may help.” </p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded, exhaustion hitting him. “Honestly the entire team could use them, I’m sure. I know I’m not the only one who has nightmares and ghosts.”</p><p> </p><p>Another hum. “True, it can only be expected. But right now I am not concerned for the entire team. They are maintaining themselves with your help, but you are left alone to handle your own demons? I am not blind to the way your team hovers over Wanda, or Scott even, but when it is you, limping off of a gangway, deeply injured, or rushing out of a room because of demons that follow you, they leave you to it, to get through on your own, or with whatever help you can gather from others unaware. It is not the way it is done in Wakanda.” </p><p> </p><p>Sam shook his head. “It’s not their fault, I’ve helped a lot of vets, I know how to handle it. They're all either too young, too inexperienced, or weren’t raised acknowledging emotions. Plus, my trauma doesn’t quite compare to a super soldier out of time, a scientific experiment turned witch, or an assassin. It’s not their fault.” </p><p> </p><p>The corners of T’Challa’s mouth tightened. “We do not compare demons here, Sam, please do not do so as a way of excusing your teammates. I understand the reasoning, even before the explanation, but it does not excuse the actions.” </p><p> </p><p>Sam hesitated but didn’t really have a way of defending his teammates any more than that. He shrugged. </p><p> </p><p>They fell back into silence momentarily. </p><p> </p><p>Sam finally cleared his throat and stood. His hands were still shaking, but he knew that what he needed most was hydration, calories, and rest. “I appreciate you sitting out here with me… And I will probably take you up on that offer of resources. There’s a lot of things I need to sort out in my head and get straight.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa nodded as he stood as well. Sam was calm enough to again admire the fluidity of the king’s movement. “I would be glad to share those with you, you wear a heavy mantle, Samuel.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam was struck a little dumb with the way the king said his full name. It was a very nice sound. “Um, yeah, I guess, but I don’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>T’Challa sighed as he shifted a little. His fingers began to spin the ring on his hand again. “My father was a wise man, though I have come to learn that he was flawed as well. He used to tell me that when a warrior carried demons back from his battles that it was a sign of strength, it showed that the warrior was strong enough to keep the inhumanity of war and battle away from himself, even after the battle was over. It separated the warriors who went to protect loved ones from the warriors who went because they took joy in bloodshed.” His fingers stilled and Sam was pinned under sudden direct eye contact. “There is no place for shame here, Samuel, you have proven, both to your people, and to me, that you are a man of strength who fights alongside and for his loved ones. Please do not feel as though these moments have made you less in my eyes, or in the eyes of Wakanda.” </p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded, struck a little dumb by the gravity and sincerity in the statement. “I appreciate that, a lot, T’Challa.”</p><p> </p><p>The king nodded, then gestured with one hand toward the door. As they left Sam couldn’t help but wonder what other hidden talents the king had. Singing had never even been on Sam’s radar before as a preferred talent, but it definitely was now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A couple of new interactions. A couple of new questions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Alright, rules are simple, grab the objective, don’t get caught. Cap team on defense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam grumbled as he regrouped with Scott. “Why are we the ones on offense when our team is smaller? It’s not fair.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott just laughed at him. It was a fair question, okay? They had finally gotten to a point where they were done relaxing, they had all been itching to do some training so Clint had come up with a game to play in the training room. It was a pretty big room, and the ‘objective’ was made harder by the lights flickering off, only a few dim lights shone from the corners of the room, highlighting the neat order of equipment, but making it difficult to even see the black knapsack that was being used as the target. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We got this, right? It can’t be harder than prison.” Sam couldn’t see the grin on Scott’s face, but hearing it in his voice was enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, easy, we only have to face off a super soldier, an assassin, and a witch.” He dropped down behind the weird high tech treadmills next to Scott. “Okay, the only way this is gonna work is if we keep Clint distracted. Wanda’s probably gonna be on protection detail like last time, and Cap’ll go on full offense. But we can try to keep ahead of Cap, I’ll distract Clint, you get past Wanda. Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, this is fun, this is gonna be good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam rolled his eyes, waiting for the music to start, signaling the official beginning of the run. That had been Scott’s idea, adding booming techno bass to the room only made it that much harder to focus and hear anything going on, including communication between team members. Wanda had proposed using strobe lights, and Sam had been grateful that he wasn’t the only one who thought that was a terrible idea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as the music started, Sam darted away and Scott disappeared. He purposefully ran past several of the dim lights, hopeful that Clint was tracking him rather than the ant sized tic-tac. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long for them to lose ground. Wanda was just as good as she always was, but Steve was apparently using his super senses to track Scott and over the music Sam kept hearing cursing from his teammate. He felt a whistle next to his ears and knew it hadn’t hit him simply because Clint was just showing him where he had left himself open again. He ducked further behind a short climbing wall of some sort, none of them had yet to figure out what it was for, but it provided good cover. He turned his head to check the other direction for either Steve or Wanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And nearly shrieked as he came face to face with the dark eyes of the Black Panther. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! Man, what the hell are you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only response he got was an earthy chuckle. The mask was up so Sam couldn’t see the smile, but he could hear it. He hoped eventually he’d get to see it, but his chances had been limited over the last few days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another shout from Scott brought him sharply back to earth. “Who’s side are you on exactly?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The helmet around T’Challa’s face dropped away, melting into his collar, revealing a satisfied smirk. That was a cool upgrade, much better than his whole latched helmet that he’d had under that bridge and at the airport.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pressed a silver ball a little larger than a marble into Sam’s hand. “I was informed that you were training, but the numbers were uneven. I thought I would lend a hand to the smaller team. Next time you see Clint make sure and hit him with this. It won’t be painful, but it will incapacitate him momentarily. Long enough for you to help Scott get past Wanda. I can handle the Captain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam couldn’t really argue with that strategy. He nodded quickly, peeking over at where he had seen Clint last. He wasn’t there anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, did you see where he went?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned back to the king, but he was gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam rolled his eyes. “Fucking superhumans.” He darted away and was instantly met with a sharp thwack against his shoulder. Thank heavens Clint was just using his nerfed arrows, he’d have a bruise but nothing worse than that. Sam whirled around to find the archer. He found him as a balanced shadow among the ropes course area, it kind of reminded Sam of the Ninja Warrior courses, but a lot more intense. Sam took two steps and let his thrusters take over. He extended his wings for just enough time to get the distance he needed, once again thankful for the high ceilings that seemed to be a favorite of Wakanda, then folded and twisted, whipping the little marble directly toward the shadow of the archer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He did not expect him to suddenly go still, completely frozen. But it only took him a second to recover and he quickly turned to run toward Wanda and a regularly sized Scott. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye he saw Steve turn toward him, and he suddenly wished he had the time to stop and watch as a dark shadow intercepted him. It’d be nice to watch T’Challa fight when Sam didn’t have to worry about dying or world ending problems. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As it was he picked up speed and as Wanda turned to face him Scott slipped past, going tiny to avoid the whirl of red. She turned sharply to keep both of them in her vision, but fueled by the knowledge that they were closer than they’d been the last three times they’d tried this, Sam feinted moving around her. She was also distracted as a sudden shout from Clint told Sam they were running out of time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott was normal sized for all of the three seconds he needed to grab the leather pack and hurl it at Sam. Sam caught it as he turned and his wings extended. He kicked off with practiced ease, spinning so another nerfed arrow rebounded off his wings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help the victorious shout as he landed and rolled into the safe zone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott’s yell was followed shortly by the lights returning to full brightness. “We did it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was almost instantly confronted by a glaring Clint. “Not cool! What did you even throw at me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re majesty, I didn’t realize you had joined us.” Steve’s smooth voice cut through it all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged at Clint, grinning just a little. “We said it was cool to use tech from the team members.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was a neuro disabler.” The panther mask was down again, and T’Challa’s eyes were gleaming with humor. “No side effects. Shuri asked me to test them and I took advantage of the opportunity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam’s grin got a little wider. “Not used to thinking on the fly, Clint? Getting rusty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not cool.” Clint rolled his eyes and walked over to check on Wanda. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa caught Sam’s eye and nodded approvingly. “Your maneuvers in doors are admirable, even if you are flying primitive tech.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was caught between flushing with the praise, and being offended on behalf of his wings. He went for somewhere in the middle where he grinned as he shook his head. “Man, I got a drone, I’ll take primitive as long as I get to keep Redwing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A young female voice cut across theirs. “How did it go, brother? I told you it would work, tell me I was right!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam caught a fond eye roll as T’Challa turned toward the source of the voice. She was young, her long hair was done up in intricate braids leaving her face open and happy. Her white dress was simple, but fashionable. He caught the resemblance instantly, especially because he had just seen the same bright mischief in T’Challa’s eyes a moment ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shuri,” A short string of Wakandan followed, in a slightly chastising tone. She didn’t look chastised as she laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shush, brother, I only came by for my tech. How did it go?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was surprised to find the last question asked in his direction. “Oh, it was cool, worked pretty instantly, even though I don’t know what it did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded and grinned again. “It was a small neuro stimulator, it stimulates the nerves painlessly, but in a way that it completely shuts down neuro pathways for a few moments. Almost like an EMP for the brain. It’s cool, yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam nodded. “That’s pretty cool.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve suddenly cleared his throat, his eyebrows raised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa shook his head slightly, a small smile tilting the corners of his mouth up. “I apologize, this is my sister, Princess Shuri. She has been stuck in her lab lately, so hasn’t had the opportunity to meet everyone directly yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A lab?” Steve looked appropriately interested as he held out a hand. Shuri accepted it with a casual shake of her own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, a lab. It isn’t quite back into shape after everything that happened, I’ve been cleaning, but I am the primary inventor of all the tech you see around you while you are here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Sam was also impressed. “All of it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded, grinning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scott seemed to take that as his cue to join in. “Even our fancy techy microwave?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed and nodded again. “Hardly advanced tech,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The hot water heater that never runs out of hot water?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded again as Clint laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do you know it never runs out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wanda put a casual arm around Scott’s waist. “You mean you didn’t notice that he tested it the other day with that shower that lasted over three hours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clint was about to respond when Sam cut in, cause now he was definitely curious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even the Black Panther suit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what he’d said, but Shuri’s eyes suddenly lit up and she laughed. “Yes! And-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shuri, no, no, no,” Another string of Wakandan as T’Challa brought up a hand. “Do not, not another word. Go back to your lab and leave them to their training.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She giggled and easily sidestepped her brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to see T’Challa’s reaction when I showed him the updated suit for the first time? It was almost as good as when I showed him what a meme is!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “T’Challa didn’t know what a meme is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He got the stink eye for that comment. “I had more important things to learn, Wilson, do not listen to a word she says, she can’t be trusted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Shuri was right next to him, bringing up a holographic display on her wrist. Sam had seen a few people, including T’Challa use the beaded bracelet around their wrist and he was infinitely curious about it. It was cool to see it in use again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was surprised to find a video cued up, T’Challa featured front and center. “I am sure you have noticed that it contains kinetic energy from force used against it, it gathers it so that later in fights it can redistribute it for a greater impact. Watch, it’s great.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam hadn’t noticed, but it was cool to know. Pretty badass upgrades.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She almost sounded like Stark there for a second.” Clint muttered under his breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both Sam and Steve gave him a look. He put a hand up in surrender. “I’m just saying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam looked back at the video as it started to play. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shuri giggled. “I told him it was for research purposes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam had just enough time to admire T’Challa’s form as he went in for a roundhouse kick, when as soon as he connected with the suited mannequin, the onscreen T’Challa was rebounded halfway across the lab.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The current T’Challa huffed and rolled his eyes as Sam and Steve both burst into laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, laugh it up, she did not tell me that would happen!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all laughed harder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you to delete that footage, and you disobey your king, shame, Shuri.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That just made Shuri laugh harder and replay the video. “It was perfect, he hit it so hard the first time that he did not have time to brace for the redistribution!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam caught T’Challa’s eye and was lucky enough to see the softening of his features as his expression turned rueful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You see what I have to deal with, Sam? It’s a disgrace.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rueful smile said otherwise. Sam was pleased to see a little more of the kingly mantle slip away as love for the princess replaced it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It reminded him of the couple nights over the past few days that T’Challa had found him on his balcony again. It hadn’t turned into anything especially serious or light, but had stayed comfortably in the middle, inquiries about how the other was doing, T’Challa checking up on his sleep, Sam checking in on everything he could think of. There had been some mutual ribbing, but nothing quite matched a good sibling tease. It made T’Challa look years younger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This fugitive vacation was turning out a lot different than Sam had planned. He’d imagined dusty safehouses and lowered hats. Not training with high tech during the day, and being on first name basis with a king at night. And now he was even allowed to witness a sibling prank. He couldn’t deny that it felt kind of special. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Plus, T’Challa really did look good in the upgraded suit. And now that it was brighter Sam could definitely see the upgrades. The helmet was seamless as he’d seen before, but the material was also completely soundproof as T’Challa shifted on his feet. Sam could recognize little swirls of purple, the same as the video had shown, which Sam assumed was the frozen kinetic energy. It also hugged the king’s curves in all the right places, another thing that Sam couldn’t help but notice those nights when the king joined him. He always looks so put together and regal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Sam pulled his thoughts, and his gaze, away from the King the conversation had moved on. Clint was giving Shuri back the marble sized tech and the team is making plans for showers and lunch. Apparently now that they’ve met Shuri she’s excited to check out all the tech they have and is hinting at possible upgrades. Clint makes another comment about Stark that everyone ignores.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the group moves toward their quarters T’Challa hangs back and finally excuses himself. He shares a smile and nod with Sam as he leaves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam can’t help the disappointment that takes the place of the king’s presence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another few days passed without seeing the king and Sam would be lying if he said that he was here for any other reason than to avoid the members of his team. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Here being the palace gym room. He’d been a frequent gym occupant in D.C. and the Avengers compound and was using that as the excuse to be here now. It was weird not to exercise as frequently as he had, even if now he was exercising much more than he had previously. If anyone asked that was his reasoning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he was being honest, which he purposefully wasn’t, his nightmares were getting worse, and more frequent, as they always seemed to after huge conflicts, and the only way he had ever found to combat them was to make himself so tired through exercise that he couldn’t help but fall into a dreamless sleep. Or reliving them and processing them correctly but he just couldn’t manage that right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The day after meeting the princess he had tracked her down again to ask about some sort of headphones he could use while training, since music had always made it easier to ignore the thoughts swirling in his brain. She had come through, with more than he had anticipated. She’d dragged him to a room not far from where he’d found her in the maze of hallways, which was apparently only a very small version of her true lab, but one she used frequently while at the palace. He’d finally gotten a solid look at the beaded bracelets everyone had, and she’d even given him one of his own. She’d grinned as she showed him how to contact her through one of the beads, hinting mischievously that he could also contact T’Challa on it if he ever needed to. He’d ignored that and listened to her next instructions, which were how to pull up any kind of music he could imagine. It was like the best spotify network ever. She had then handed him a small silver case that had two purple listening devices in it. She showed him how to attach them to the skin behind his ears, explaining that it had proved to be a healthier listening option, he could turn it up all he wanted but it wouldn’t damage his hearing like “colonizers headphones”. It was also impossible for anyone to hear what he was listening to, but still allowed him to hear what was going on around him if he cared to tune in to that. She had then shown him how to connect them to his bracelet, a simple press of his wrist to the back of his ear once they were in place linked them instantly. It was the simplest, but also the most mystifying tutorial he’d ever been given. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had wondered if Wakandan technology would ever stop surprising him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hardly cared about it now though. He’d worn himself out with flying maneuvers, doing his best to go through his normal flight practice routine in the high ceilinged room. He’d then moved to weights and stretches, and now he was focusing all his thought on getting through his fifth mile on the high tech treadmill. It calculates his distance, and his pace, but doesn’t have a setting to keep it at one particular speed. It is almost like it was reading his mind as he slowed and sped up. If he wants to keep it at one speed it takes actual effort. It was the closest he had ever come to running like he did outside, but on a treadmill instead. The first time it had impressed him, right now he was just focused on keeping ahead of his demons, Marvin Gaye loud through his new earbuds. He hadn’t found a better name for his high tech listening devices, so that’s what he’d defaulted to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s so focused on his punishing pace that he doesn’t hear when T’Challa steps up onto the treadmill next to him. He instead nearly falls on his face when the king reaches over and disables his treadmill completely, sending him into a stumbling fall as his body adjusts to standing still. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gasps and wipes the sweat out of his eyes when he’s finally stable on his feet. “What the hell, what was that for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nearly shoves a water bottle into his hands. “How long have you been in here? The Captain has been trying to find you. Your run this morning with the Captain was not sufficient?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam tried to laugh it off as he accepted the water bottle. He would never admit how long it had been since he’d drained the one he brought with him. “Did he need something? Just had a lot of energy today, something come up?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>T’Challa shook his head and started running on his own treadmill. Sam tried to start again himself, but his treadmill wasn’t responding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa side eyed him. “Rest for another minute before you begin again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Just had a lot of energy. I didn’t realize Steve didn’t know I was in here, I told him where I was going.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The king nodded. “That was apparently three hours ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That got Sam’s attention, but he tried not to show his surprise. Three hours? He’d known it had been a while, but he didn’t realize just how long. He turned down his music with a finger on one of the beads of his bracelet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa ran in silence for a few minutes while Sam got his breath back. Sam spent those few minutes admiring T’Challa’s form, he really looked great no matter what he was doing, but running showed off his slim waist, and powerful muscles in a way that was both intimidating and a little intoxicating. His thin long sleeved shirt and sleek black pants didn’t hide much either. Sam hadn’t really understood people who liked to wear all black before, in fact he’d occasionally mocked the Black Widow for it, but he found himself appreciating the style choice when T’Challa did it. It was a very good look on the king. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a while he seemed to approve of Sam’s breathing and reached over to turn his treadmill back on. Sam started running again, at a significantly slower pace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Captain seemed to believe that you have been doing excessive training in the past few days, he is concerned.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shook his head, glancing at T’Challa. “He’s one to talk. He ran like thirty miles this morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa hummed. “He is also a super human. How many miles are you about to complete?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam felt a flush rise in his cheeks that had nothing to do with exercising. He didn’t know how to reply to that without admitting to a few things so he didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa apparently hadn’t been expecting an answer. “How often do you spar with your companions?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That surprised Sam just a little. “Like, actual hand to hand? Not often, we normally train together with our gear and powers to get better at working together with them.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another hum. “That might help with your energy levels. I have discovered that sparring with someone requires more focus than hours training alone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged, slowing down just a little more. “You often train with someone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That got him a smirk. “I am not speaking of myself, Sam. Do not try to turn this onto me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought I’d give it a try.” He sighed a little. “It’s hard, Steve doesn’t want to hurt me with his supersoldier strength, Scott was only trained in tiny hand to hand that goes with his suit ability, Wanda wasn’t really ever trained in hand to hand, and Clint rarely wants to. Natasha used to spar with me, but, ya know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nodded understandingly. “The Captain has immense strength, as does Sergeant Barnes. I can understand that it feels hard to control, and I am not surprised the Widow knows how.”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you also enhanced?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not in the same ways. My strength has been enhanced, but the power of the Black Panther is mainly from enhanced instincts and intuition. I receive the strength and speed to back those instincts, but it is not wholly about muscle structure or function. It was very different for the Captain. When the power of the Heart Shaped Herb is removed from me I would maintain my physical prowess as much the same, my musculature would not change at all. I believe it would be different for the Captain were his serum to be removed from him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam couldn’t really disagree with that. Talking about it got him curious though. “Have you ever had the power of the Herb removed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nodded, a little less smoothly than he had before. “Yes, on two occasions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two? Why does that happen?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was surprised when the king slowed his pace to match Sam’s, even though he wasn’t even close to out of breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is a very rare occurrence, but there were certain circumstances that led to it. Before I was crowned king, tradition gave the opportunity for the other tribes of Wakanda to change the line of succession through ritual combat. Ritual combat required that I have the power of the Black Panther removed to ensure that only natural strength was used to show Wakanda’s new king. It happened a second time because another person of royal blood challenged me for the throne, also through ritual combat.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam couldn’t help his surprise. “Like, ritual combat to the death? I didn’t realize that still happened anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa sighed and nodded again. “Ritual combat is ritual for a reason, it is through yield or death, allowing the future king to extend mercy if given the opportunity. The leaders of the other tribes do not challenge lightly, and for one of them to be killed, even in ritual combat, would not be ideal. It is not a point of shame to yield, not for us. It simply shows the strength behind the challenger and the challenged, and who is more suited for the throne, both with their strength, and the mercy shown to their opponent.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam thought about that for a moment. “You came out on top both times, though, since you’re still king. That’s pretty impressive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glanced over at T’Challa in time to catch the grimace and regret in his expression. “One challenger yielded, the other did not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam heard exactly what T’Challa was not saying. “Is that what happened before Steve rescued us? That’s why you didn’t have the resources to help him break us out, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another nod, followed by the king picking up his pace again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam knew he should probably shut up, but he was really curious now. He’d only seen Shuri and the Queen Mother referred to as royalty, but if another member of royal blood challenged T’Challa there had to be more royal family out there. Where were they? And if they were the challenger that refused to yield that meant T’Challa had to kill someone he was related to, right? That had to call for a hell of a lot of therapy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “The person of royal blood who challenged you, who were they?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa came to an abrupt halt, his breathing was slightly heavier than when he’d started, but not by much. He didn’t say anything for long enough that Sam regretted his question. T’Challa had even told him that he didn’t want this conversation turned on him and Sam had done it anyway. He was an idiot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slowed down until he stopped completely, watching T’Challa warily. His eyes had gone slightly distant, and he appeared to be debating with himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After several moments that Sam felt too guilty to break T’Challa stepped off the treadmill. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you taken the time to watch one of our sunsets, Sam?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shook his head, not surprised by the change of subject. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is said that they are the most beautiful in the world. I have found that when I am watching the sun set on Wakanda that I am able to truly understand my role as King and Protector. Some say that the Panther Goddess, Bast, speaks to us most clearly when we are finding peace within ourselves, and that the beauty of the sunset helps us find that peace.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam nodded, a little uncertain. He wasn’t sure where this line of thinking was coming from, or why T’Challa was sharing it with him, but it seemed important to the king. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa spent another few minutes in thought then gestured toward the door. “I must be going, but if you have the opportunity, the sunsets are definitely worth the time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam nodded, he didn’t know how to respond, exactly, but T’Challa apparently wasn’t expecting a response because he didn’t wait for one. He simply turned on his heel and quickly disappeared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, his question had been way too personal, T’Challa had obviously been generalizing for a reason. He hadn’t even explicitly stated who had challenged him when. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam took another breath and looked around. It was probably time to go, Steve would come looking for him if he stuck around too much longer, especially since he’d apparently sent T’Challa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grabbed his empty water bottle, along with the one T’Challa had given him and went back to his room to shower. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And if he excused himself from team dinner earlier than usual, or took the elevator down to the garden that surrounded the intricate building, or spent the entire evening watching the sun slowly move toward the horizon, thinking constantly of the king who ruled the entirety of what he could see. Well, no one had to know why. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sam is getting worse. He knows this, mostly because he refuses to admit it, and that’s never healthy. He knows this. He was a goddamned therapist, he knows he needs to be doing things to get better. But he can’t seem to force himself like he used to. He still goes on runs with Steve in the morning, still trains with the team, still goes to the medical building where they are keeping Barnes in deep freeze with Steve for updates. He still has conversations, which means he’s not as bad as he could be. He’s not as bad as he was when he got home from discharge. But he doesn’t do these things as part of being alive anymore, he’s doing them so that Steve won’t look at him with those concerned eyebrows, he does them so that people will think he’s okay and leave him alone. It’s really not healthy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t really have much of an option, he doesn’t have the mental strength to relive everything again, he doesn’t have the ability to do anything right now but survive. Once he gets through the survival stage it’ll get better. He knows this. And it still sucks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oddly enough it feels even worse because T’Challa hasn’t come around since their tense conversation in the gym. He’s come to visit the team, but it’s always when Sam isn’t around. He can’t help but feel terrible for it. It’s been a week and he wants to apologize, wants to tell him how horrible he feels for pushing that boundary with the king, but he’s just not around to tell. His nightmares are getting worse, and ever since that day in the gym it just hasn’t felt as fulfilling to exercise away the demons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does notice things happening though. A few days ago he came back from team training to find his regular bedding had been replaced with lavender scented ones. A day after that he finds new products in his bathroom, with a variety of scents from the calming to the invigorating. A new playlist popped up on his kimoyo beads yesterday while he was running with Steve, it was all african music, ranging from the lullaby sounds of the song T’Challa had sung him to upbeat tribal music. It was all awesome. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has no idea what to think. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was absolutely possible that Shuri was the one switching things up on him. It was also possible that it was happening to everyone on the team. He didn’t want to bring it up, first because it would absolutely lead to questions about his mental status, and he also didn’t know if he wanted it to be something that everyone got, or how he would feel if it turned out it was just for him. So he appreciated everything that happened and kept his thoughts to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts in his lavender scented pillow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam, you ready to go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was time to run again. He groaned as he crawled out of the bed and grabbed his beads off his bedside table. He had figured out only a couple of days ago that he could use them to communicate through the little pad next to the door instead of having to walk all the way to the in-suite pad. It was super convenient. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, man, I’ll be ready in just a minute.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He heard Steve move away and he was tempted to just collapse back onto the bed. But then Steve would come looking again and he would have questions and Sam didn’t want to answer any of them. He changed and threw on his shoes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he met Steve out in the kitchen area he wanted to grimace. The guy was way too happy. He was nearly bouncing with energy and grinned over when he saw Sam. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rise and shine, once we finish our run the doctors said they have an update. Apparently the princess has been doing some experimenting with vibranium and she thinks she might have a solution to get Bucky out of the ice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam found he could actually smile for that. “That’s awesome, man, that’s great to hear.”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded excitedly and gestured at the door to their room. “Yeah, I just gotta get rid of this energy and then we’ll see what she has to say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was only slightly surprised to see the female guards outside their door as they closed it behind them. He had yet to figure out what exactly decided whether or not they needed guards that day. Most days their doorway was clear, but randomly, at least to the team, the women would show up. The longest they’d stuck around had been three days. Scott had tried to flirt with them and gotten the silent treatment and finally a long stint of Wakandan that had apparently done the trick in getting him to leave them alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today they weren’t silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where is your destination?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve smiled his dopey happy smile at them. “Just to the gardens, gonna do some training there and then we’re gonna head over to Bucky’s lab.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The female warrior nodded. Sam wished he knew their names, but they mostly spoke Wakandan and if names were addressed he couldn’t discern them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The king has requested you stay within the palace grounds without an escort until further notice. Do not leave the garden without alerting one of the Dora.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded quickly. “Of course, thank you for letting us know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They moved on and Sam couldn’t help the feeling of them staring at him before they disappeared around the corner. He fervently wished he had some kind of a hoodie. He missed D.C. winters for that fact alone. When he felt like this it was always nice to have a barrier between him and the world. He definitely understood why Barnes had kept his hair so long, what he wouldn’t give to have some kind of a curtain. He felt exposed and on display, raw. He could keep it together, he didn’t really have a choice without answering a bunch of awkward questions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They took the stairs down, because Steve couldn’t keep himself still enough to wait for the Wakandan elevators. As they got to the bottom Sam’s desire to hide and never show his face again got a lot stronger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the middle of the giant foyer a long double line of the female warriors were apparently welcoming a political party of some kind. And T’Challa was front and center. He was gorgeous. His long robes were deep purple today and embroidered with sunset colors. He stood strong and confident, his hands clasped at the small of his back, as he spoke to another larger man, dressed in furs and leather, carrying some kind of staff with a gorilla head on top of it. Without T’Challa the guy might have been intimidating, or at least more intimidating than he was. But T’Challa held the room, it was obvious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe they’d be able to disappear past the welcoming party without being seen, Sam really didn’t feel like those eyes on him right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But T’Challa was just too good at his job. He turned and caught sight of them, his smile followed just seconds later. He gestured at them, beckoning them over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your highness, how are you?” Steve stepped over quickly extending his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am well, Captain, and yourself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m good, doing very well. Shuri gave me an update this morning, we’re headed over to the lab later to see what she’s discovered.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nodded, his eyes crinkling softly. “I am glad to hear it, she has not given me all the details, but it is several steps forward from where we were.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with that comment the king’s eyes landed on Sam. He almost felt his throat close literally. He didn’t have the strength for this today, it was too early, and he was too tired, and he was tired of hiding. He forced a smile anyway, knowing it wouldn’t get near his eyes no matter how hard he tried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within half a breath T’Challa was in front of him, a hand extended, his eyes serious and searching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam forced himself to pull his right hand out of his pocket and take the king’s hand as firmly as he could muster. T’Challa clasped his one hand in both of his own, like he always did to Sam, but not to anyone else on the team. And why was that so important? Why did it matter? But it did, and it cracked Sam just another little bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“T’Challa.” Sam couldn’t get anything else past the lump in his throat, but he hoped it was enough of an acknowledgement that it would be okay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam.” T’Challa didn’t let go of his hand, still searching his eyes. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He mustered another smile. “I’m good, tired, but nothing that a good workout won’t solve.” His pathetic deflection fell flat even to Sam’s ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa hummed gently, barely nodded. “And you're sleeping?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam was acutely aware of all the eyes on them, and definitely didn’t want to answer that question at all, much less in front of an audience. He just nodded. T’Challa was too good at this, he’d know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa held his gaze for just another second, then lifted his left hand off of their clasped hands. He moved it up Sam’s hand, until the beads on their wrists clinked together lightly. There was a slight vibration and a soft whirl of purple and T’Challa nodded again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their hands dropped, and just like that T’Challa let the rest of the room back into focus. Sam had no idea what had just caused the vibration and color on his bracelet. T’Challa didn’t seem inclined to explain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would like you both to meet the leader of the Jubari tribe.” He stepped back to make introductions, gesturing to the man in the furs. “This is M’Baku, and these are some of the American Avengers, Sam Wilson and Captain Steve Rogers.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The leader, M’Baku, regarded them heavily for a moment before making a comment in Wakandan. T’Challa didn’t even look at the guy, his eyes flickering to Sam, and didn’t return a comment. The guys that flanked M’Baku laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve, ever the people pleasing diplomat, smoothly cut in. “We’re not really dressed to impress right now, but it’s a pleasure to meet you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam nodded and hoped that was enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa spoke up again, his eyes suddenly piercing. “I would request that you stay within the gardens today, and when you visit Barnes please take one of the Dora Milaje with you. It is important that all of my guests remain out of harm’s way.” For some reason Sam had the distinct impression that last sentence wasn’t just for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve apparently did not catch that vibe, because he just grinned and nodded. “You know we’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves, but we appreciate the concern, your highness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nodded and his gaze moved to Sam for another moment before they were smoothly dismissed without a word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam felt the humid air hit him and he finally felt like he could breathe. He had definitely noticed that the clean, dense air of Wakanda was grounding for him. He refused to consider why that might be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead he focused on pulling out the slender silver case that held his high tech earbuds. He put them in place and then touched the music bead on his bracelet to get the music started. He selected the African playlist and tried to keep his brain focused on the beats as he fell into a jog beside Steve. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But like the asshole he was, Steve quickly left him in the dust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Steve had lapped his three times he was exhausted. His brain was fighting him, he was struggling just with the desire to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and the volume on his thoughts was way too high for comfort right now, even through the music.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He held on to his pace long enough to get lapped three more times, and then finally gave up and dropped into a walk. They were following the paved path that led directly around the edge of the garden perimeter, the hedges covered most of Wakanda since they were on a hill, but he didn’t even have the desire to soak in the sights like he usually did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aw, man, he was so much worse than he thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t afford to let people down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needs to enjoy the things around him, or people will notice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam came to a stop next to one of the benches that were scattered throughout the gardens. This bench particularly was placed so people can see through a gap in the hedge and out over the city. He forces himself to look and admire. The treeline that shows the edge of the city meanders around in a loose circle. The buildings are bright, and even from here he can hear the buzzing that is the noise of the city and her people. It’s a good place to be, a beautiful place to be, and its okay if he’s not perfect here. No one expects him to be. His chats with T’Challa should have proved that, but it’s like pulling teeth to get his brain to agree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you okay, Sam?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brings his eyes back into focus right before Steve’s hand makes contact with his shoulder. He still flinches when it does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve’s hand is instantly gone and he’s another step away. “Sorry, are you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam suddenly couldn’t get enough breath in his lungs. He closed his eyes, and nodded. “Yeah, man, sorry, I’m exhausted, not feeling myself today.” Or any day for the past weeks, but that didn’t need voicing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded, his eyes still worried. “Maybe we’d better head back, get you back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam is totally on board with that idea, but he hated bringing Steve down with him, especially with good news coming about Barnes. He shook his head. “Nah, man, I’ll head back, but you keep going. Just come get me when you’re ready to go see Barnes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve watched him carefully, and after a tense moment he shook his head. “I’ll have Clint come with me, or Wanda, you go get sleep, maybe see if there’s anything Shuri could give you to help?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He only put up a token protest. “I hate letting you down, you know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A slightly crooked smile is what he gets for that. “You’re not letting me down, Sam, you deserve a rest, besides, Wanda doesn’t mind visiting with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam didn’t have the energy to argue so he just shrugged. “If you need me, come get me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve nodded and then gestured for Sam to head back the way they had come. Sam knew without looking that he didn’t start running again until Sam had turned the corner. He was a good guy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even knowing he was headed back to bed wouldn’t get his pace to pick up so he walked, slower than he usually would, all the way back into the palace. It hadn’t even been half an hour, but the welcoming guard and the king were no longer in sight and he was grateful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He got halfway up the stairs, his eyes on his shoes, when a voice from above him jolted him out of his empty thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Samuel, are you alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed and his head came up as T’Challa came level with him on the stairs. He nodded, and forced a tired smile. This was not what he needed right now, the poor guy had enough on his plate. “Yeah, hey, I’m good. How’s your politics going?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The king nodded, dismissing Sam’s question with a quick, “As well as can be hoped for.” But there were still worry lines across his high forehead and he continued quickly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you finish your training so quickly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged and started up the stairs again, knowing he couldn’t side step the king’s unasked question. T’Challa kept pace with him, but Sam could still feel the gaze on the side of his face. It made him want to turn away and hide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Turned out to be a little much this morning. Steve’s still out there being a maniac. I’m just headed for the showers.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nodded and Sam noticed the slight fidget with the ring on his hand out of the corner of his eye. It was another moment before he spoke again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is concerning to me that you do not appear to be getting better rest. Are the accommodations not comfortable for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was only a slight hesitation in the question, but Sam’s tired brain picked it up. Well, that answered the question of who had been changing things up on him. It was an incredibly sweet gesture that Sam couldn’t wrap his head around right now, so he shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, man, they’re good, great even. I really appreciate everything.” Here he hesitated. This felt like one of their balcony conversations where they could be a little more candid, but it was also in the middle of the palace, and he still didn’t know how he stood with the king after their previous disaster of a conversation. He chanced a glance over and was almost surprised to find T’Challa watching him intently. He shrugged again. “Just brain stuff, ya know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa studied him closely for another moment, then slipped his fingers over one of the beads on his wrist, studying the readout for a quick second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They reached the top of the stairs as T’Challa spoke again. “I do understand, and I hope that I have helped you be comfortable enough here to ask if there is anything else you might need.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam found it in himself to grin just a little at the slight hesitance, almost awkwardness in his voice. “You really have, and I appreciate everything. If I need something I’ll let you know, but for now it’s just gettin’ through it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He self consciously crossed his arms in front of himself, again trying to create an illusion of a barrier between himself and everything else. He was ready for more sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nodded slowly and seemed satisfied at least for the moment. “Then I wish you peaceful rest, Sam.” He followed that with a quiet murmur of Wakandan and his closed fist pressed to his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam didn’t know what that meant, but he appreciated not having to shake hands again. He nodded and then moved down the hallway toward the fugitive side of the building. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t aware enough to notice the king lingering at the end of the hall, watching his back until he moved out of view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------------------------------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Coming out of sleep was hard. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but it was long enough for his tired muscles to complain about it. He was still in his running clothes, having just collapsed on the bed when he got back into his room, and he could feel the drying sweat that seemed to cover him. Not all of it was from his failed run, a good portion probably cropping up from his messy and disjointed dreams, but he counted himself lucky that they were just dreams and not nightmares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took another several minutes before he tried to get up, breathing in the calming scents, and trying to get his mind back online. He still felt heavy, exhausted, but he knew more sleep was not the solution. He needed to be up, socializing, moving, keeping his mind from running away with itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moved almost mechanically through cleaning himself up, keeping the water lukewarm so it wouldn’t shock him when he got in the shower. He didn’t come out of his mechanical daze until he opened the ornate wardrobe that held all of the clothes he’d been given since arriving in Wakanda. As he went for his usual comfy cloth pants and short sleeved shirt he spotted a new item that definitely hadn’t been there the last time he looked in here. It was enough of a surprise to pull himself out of his head just a little. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled the black garment out and shook it out, instantly recognizing the soft feel of the cloth as matching some of the clothes Shuri wore sometimes, she said it was woven with vibranium in order to keep the heat or cold out. He understood why as it unfolded to show a long sleeved hoodie. He held it carefully for a moment, not really comprehending. After another moment he quickly pulled it over his head. It was just a little loose around his torso, but the hood flopped comfortable against the crown of his head. It didn’t have drawstrings like the hoodies he was used to, instead the hood wrapping around to form a loose high collar. It wasn’t even hot, the vibranium weave clearly working to keep out uncomfortable temperatures. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was this another of T’Challa’s gifts? How did he know? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam pulled the hood completely up, and it drooped softly over his forehead. With how high the front collar was it created the feeling of hiding that Sam had been missing all day. He felt his chest loosen just a little with the illusion, a comfort washing over him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe there was another mind reader besides Wanda in the building. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood there comfortably for a moment. It was like being wrapped in a very comfortable portable blanket. The sleeves were long enough to fold over his hands if he wanted, but an elastic cuff, or the Wakandan equivalent, kept the fabric back. He almost missed the pouch for his hands, it was so well hidden by the stretch of the fabric. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was probably never taking it off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His beads chimed at him at the same time that the insuite pad went off, alerting him to someone ‘knocking’ on his door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam grabbed a quick pair of socks before heading towards the door. Wanda was on the other side when he opened it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We wanted to check on you, Steve said you weren’t feeling well, but Clint made some lasagna, or at least as close as he could get. We wanted to make sure you got some.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was surprised that he actually felt like smiling. “I appreciate it. How long was I out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled back at him softly. “Steve and I got back a couple of hours ago, its almost four o’clock.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded, a good depression nap. He stepped into the hallway as he gently closed his door, slipping his hands into the pouch of the hoodie as he followed Wanda back into the communal area. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve greeted him with a firm hug and an anxious smile. “Are you feeling better?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Yeah, a lot better, just needed some sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And apparently a new shirt, where’d you get the hoodie, man? That looks comfy.” Scott craned his neck over the back of the couch from where a movie was playing on the projection screen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged, smiling just a little. “It was in my dresser, not sure how it got there. But it is comfy, and I don’t know that I’ll ever take it off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wanda stroked a hand down his arm, feeling the fabric. “Is it hot? It looks thick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I think it’s one of those vibranium weaves Shuri was talking about, the temperature regulating kind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded quickly, she had been the one to accompany Sam on some of his visits to Shuri, so she understood a little more than the others what he was talking about. “I wonder where I could get some of these kinds of clothes, I miss the clothes I used to wear at the compound.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam saw Steve’s shoulders go tense and his eyes dropped. “Wanda, I’m so-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cling leaned in from the kitchen before Steve could finish his misplaced apology for their situation. “I’d bet we could take a trip into the market area, it’s not too far from here, we could all use some comfier clothes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That launched a discussion about seeing more of Wakanda, Steve bringing up T’Challa’s request that they stay within the palace grounds, Scott arguing for going the next day, Clint reminding everyone that T’Challa had said they could get a kind of allowance if they needed anything extra. The discussion continued through dinner, and Sam let it wash over him. It was nice to be in the middle of the discussion, but he wasn’t quite feeling up to joining it. He always enjoyed the camaraderie either way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They spent the rest of the evening teasing and discussing whatever random topic came up, but at the end of the night they all agreed that a trip into the city would be nice for everyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam stood out on his balcony for a while once everyone split up to go to sleep, but even if T’Challa had finally forgiven him after their conversation earlier in the day he never showed up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which was probably what put Sam right back in his bad mood the next day, if he was honest with himself. But he didn’t want to be, so he just used his tried and true “I just didn’t sleep well” excuse the next day as everyone got ready to go out. Steve had apparently got it set with the Dora, so when they all headed out they were met by four of the intimidating women who guided them all out into the city, and then took up positions that formed a loose square around their group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all worked their way down the brightly colored streets, sticking together for the most part, though they all had to work together to keep Scott from wandering off. Within an hour Sam was grateful he had worn his new hoodie, and pulled the hood over his head. Within another couple of hours he was grouchy and annoyed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to be out here. It was nice to be out of the palace, but so overwhelming. The streets were crowded to the point that personal space wasn’t a thing, and everyone kept brushing up against him. He tried to curl in smaller, and move closer to his friends, but it just hemmed him in more. He pulled his earbuds out of his pocket, hoping music would help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were stopped at a small store that was built into the building, but had open walls to allow people to come in and out freely. Two of the Dora were standing loosely by the entrance, and Sam had stopped just barely past them, his hood pulled up. He tried to pay attention to what Wanda was exclaiming over, but he quickly lost interest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was humming along to the song in his ear when suddenly the two Dora guards snapped to attention. He looked over sharply, his nerves instantly humming with adrenaline, and nearly shrank back completely when he realized it wasn’t a threat that had caught their attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the king. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost would have preferred some kind of threat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa was looking down at the display from his beads while speaking to one of the guards that flanked him. The tribe leader he had introduced them to earlier was behind him. So maybe they would go unnoticed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam felt far too fragile right now to handle a conversion with T’Challa well. He hated being such a mess. And why hadn’t he visited last night? Where did Sam stand with him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as he went to turn away, pulling his hood up just a little more, T’Challa’s head came up and somehow their eyes instantly found each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The soft smile that followed nearly did Sam in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within moments T’Challa was coming toward him, gesturing at his guards to fall behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam, I was hoping to see you out here, how are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cleared his throat quickly, not really knowing how to respond to that. He reached up again, this time to push his hood off his face. “I’m doing okay, how’s everything?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa smiled softly and waved one hand quickly, clearly dismissing the question. “How are you enjoying our marketplace?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but hesitate with that question. If he was better mentally it would be an experience he would never forget, as it was, he just wanted to be by himself in a small room, maybe with a mattress. He licked his lips quickly, then finally shrugged. “It’s fun, Wanda’s been looking at the clothes, and it’s been pretty neat to see more of the culture.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nodded again. Sam got the distinct impression he could hear everything he wasn’t saying. “Have you been getting better rest?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam chuckled a little, while also searching the king’s face. He carried the distinct air of importance and confidence, but Sam could see the worry lines, and the shoulders that seemed just a little heavier even through his own issues. “Have you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your majesty, it’s wonderful to see you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam didn’t know if he loved or hated Steve’s timing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa simply nodded, and offered his hand. Should it be important that T’Challa hadn’t reached for his hand when he came up? “Captain, how are you enjoying your outing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam backed off from the conversation mentally for just a moment. He probably wouldn’t have wanted to shake T’Challa’s hand if he had offered, anyway, it really didn’t matter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We are all enjoying the chance to breathe, and we really can’t thank you enough, T’Challa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe T’Challa was just being his usual perceptive self and had realized Sam wanted to increase his personal bubble by a million miles. That would make sense. He really needed to stop worrying about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you been given access to the funds you require? I have said before you are welcome to what you need.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a lot of unspoken nonsense too, maybe T’Challa was just as insecure as to where they stood as he was. It didn’t help that he couldn’t keep his head screwed on straight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam, may I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He came back to the conversation in time to see T’Challa with one hand extended toward him. He really should have been paying attention. Damn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nodded, and automatically extended his right hand, slipping it out of his pocket. That was apparently the right thing to do because T’Challa grasped his wrist lightly and then brought his other hand up to press their bracelets together like he had the day before. This time there was a little trill as his flashed purple. T’Challa nodded, with a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You will have access, through that, to the funds that you require. Please do not feel as though you are on a budget.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Steve grinned. “Mind if I borrow those, Sam? I think Wanda’s about ready to head to the next store.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam nodded quickly, slipping the bracelet off his wrist. He smirked, putting effort into it for Steve. “Next time get your own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Steve laughed and walked off T’Challa was watching Sam, his soft smile gone. Sam winced slightly and tugged on his hoodie again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here, Samuel? Forgive my observation, but you are not particularly enjoying yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugged, the weight of the expectation in those eyes was heavier than he was prepared for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa studied him for a few moments then stepped closer, his hand coming up to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “I understand. If you will allow me the presumption, I would like to have one of my sleeping draughts sent to your quarters. It is created from the Heart Shaped Herb, I believe it would help you, as it provides dreamless sleep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes to keep them from glistening. He nodded, clearing his throat a couple of times. “You don’t have to do that-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Samuel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took another few seconds for him to lift his eyes to meet the king’s. Several long moments of staring into the gentleness of the dark brown and he felt transparent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he got it past his throat it was barely a whisper. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>T’Challa nodded, squeezed his shoulder lightly, then stepped away again. “Leave the beads with them, Sam, I will provide one of my guards to give you an escort back to the palace. Next time we will take a trip when you are feeling more secure in yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s really not nece-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not make me phrase it as a command, Samuel. I am not above using my status as king.” A raised eyebrow and a smirk and Sam really couldn’t say no to that. “Go, I will make your excuses to your companions for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam finally nodded. “Alright, alright.” T’Challa moved to step away and Sam reached out, unable to stop himself. He felt so small in this man’s presence, and his fingertip grip on the king’s sleeve only increased that feeling. “Thank you, T’Challa, I can’t… Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was deep warmth and understanding in the king’s eyes and smile as he nodded. His hand came up to cover Sam’s on his arm. “You only have need to ask, Samuel. I will give you anything I can to help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those words and that look were branded in Sam’s eyes as he made his way, with his single guard escort, back to the palace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he arrived back at his room there was a glass bottle of deep purple liquid sitting on the bedside table. A printed note of instructions was next to it. He quickly read the note, poured the correct amount into the glass that was also there, and, still dressed, within minutes was fast asleep. </span>
</p>
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